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‘I don’t know who killed Cornelius, Sergeant Poe,’ Cobb said. ‘I don’t expect you to believe me, but it’s the truth.’

‘You wanted to tell me something,’ Poe said.

He was perched on the arm of the sofa. Cobb had put his clothes back on. He was in his armchair. The back and the cushion were both patched with masking tape. Poe took a sip of his drink. He tried not to wince. He didn’t like vodka. Never had. And neat, room temperature vodka in a stained coffee mug was gag inducing. Cobb was drinking it like a thirsty man. He was shaking now, but Poe didn’t think it was the booze. He seemed scared.

‘Tell me about the courses,’ Poe said.

‘What do you know?’

‘I think you are befuddled, Mr Cobb. We’re not friends. We’re not two mates having a chat after the pub has shut. I’m a cop and you’re a suspect, and that means I ask the questions; you answer the questions. If you lie about something I already know, you’re going to prison for perverting the course of justice. Is our relationship clearer now?’

Cobb drained his vodka and wiped his lips. He reached for the bottle, but Poe stopped him. ‘After,’ he said.

‘You know about the conversion therapy courses we used to run?’

Which was technically another question, but Poe let it slide. He nodded. ‘They still do.’

‘We didn’t run many, but when we did they were always over-subscribed. Some of the people who find solace in the Children of Job have unshakable beliefs when it comes to homosexuality, Sergeant Poe. Even when it has no impact on them in the slightest, they can’t abide that it happens. To them the Same Sex Couples Act is nothing short of appeasement. Part of a plot to ban Christianity altogether.’

‘I’ve been to the compound,’ Poe said. ‘I’ve met the kind of people you’re talking about.’

‘Then imagine these same people find out they have a gay son. What do you think their reaction might be?’

‘Extreme?’

Cobb shook his head. ‘Panic,’ he said. ‘These people aren’t evil, Sergeant Poe. They love their children, but having a gay son isn’t an option. Consider what they might do to help him?’ Cobb wrapped ‘help’ with air quotes.

‘Nothing positive,’ Poe said.

‘And now imagine there’s a charismatic guy who says he can cure homosexuality. He tells them their son isn’t gay; he’s just confused. That by attending intensive prayer and therapy sessions he can be put back on God’s path. For a fee, of course.’

‘Cornelius was a grifter?’

‘Absolutely not. He genuinely believed in what he did. And you must remember things were different back then. Conversion therapy hadn’t been universally condemned. Little was known about it, so if you searched online you would find what appeared to be balanced arguments from both sides of the efficacy debate. And if homosexuality was abhorrent to you, if you genuinely believed your son was condemning himself to hell, wouldn’t you roll the dice on a two-day course?’

‘And that’s all they were? Prayer and therapy?’

‘For the most part.’

‘But not the six courses you have tattooed on your back?’

Cobb reached for the vodka bottle again. This time Poe let him refill his beaker.

‘I’ve said Cornelius Green was a charismatic man, Sergeant Poe,’ Cobb said. ‘The kind of man who turned everyone else into background, dominated every room he was in by sheer force of presence. But looking back, he was also the most manipulative man I’ve ever had the misfortune to meet. He had a terrible . . . well, instinct I suppose you’d call it, for uncovering people’s fears and hopes and prejudices and then exploiting them.’

Poe put his mug of vodka on a scarred table. He leaned closer to Cobb. ‘Explain,’ he said.

‘He knew when parents were absolutely at the end of their tether. He knew when to push and he knew when to sit back and let them approach him. And he knew which kids were mentally suited to his special courses.’

‘Why weren’t they recorded anywhere?’

Cobb took a long drink before pressing the beaker to his forehead and closing his eyes. ‘Because by any definition what he . . . sorry, what we did was illegal.’

‘You as well?’

‘I told you, Sergeant Poe; Cornelius Green was an expert at exploiting prejudices and I was a different person then. I took the Old Testament literally. I believed life starts at conception; that being gay was a fast track to an eternity in hell. All the rest of the things religious extremists get into a tizzy about. At the time, I thought Cornelius was a kindred spirit. The firebrand activist to my more measured conservatism. We complemented each other. Or at least that’s what he made me believe. He said I was his éminence grise, the powerful adviser operating behind the scenes. The reality was he couldn’t run these extra courses on his own. And the more I think about it, the more I realise he needed a witness he could bend to his will; someone who could corroborate his version of reality.’

‘What did you do to those kids, Mr Cobb?’

Cobb drained his beaker. He wiped his chin and said, ‘Terrible, terrible things, Sergeant Poe.’